Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal
by Mark of the Asphodel
Summary: An ambitious king, an unlikely queen, and a troubled bishop make post-war Macedon a most interesting place.  Interesting, that is, in the worst possible sense.  Dedicated to Samuraiter.  Contains massive spoilers for New Mystery of the Emblem/FE12.
1. Prologue

**Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal**

I do not own _Fire Emblem _or any of its characters.

_Warning_: Contains implied adult situations, including alcohol use, drug use, name-calling, marriage, children, and political backstabbing. Also contains spoilers for _New Mystery of the Emblem: Heroes of Light and Shadow_, aka _Fire Emblem 12_. Will also contain at least one very non-canon pairing as things progress. This one gets very weird, very fast, so hold on tight!

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_Prologue_

_608, Month of the Fishes_

"Here you are, Miss Lena."

Rickard placed the cup of warm mead in her hands, and Lena fancied she saw flickers of red light in the steam that curled up from the liquid. She closed her eyes briefly, yet when she opened them there still seemed to be a curious distortion in her vision- a haze around each figure, strange colors around each candle flame.

"Thank you, Rickard."

He aimed his insouciant smile at her, then placed a hand to the back of his head and laughed, just the way she remembered him. She looked past him, at the swirling crowd of people that filled the royal halls of Macedon with so much noise and color. A fair and pale man in the garb of the old Sable Order stood conversing with one of Hardin's Wolfsguard. A rough-hewn man from Talys clinked his cup against that of an elegant mage from Khadein, sharing in a toast to their great victory. Roger, the homely knight from her own motherland of Grust, was chatting with her apprentice Melissa, whom Lena had not seen in long years. Had it been five years now... or seven?

Surely this was just another dream, some illusion conjured up in desperation to shield her mind from the never-ending nightmares. All these people, faces from all the mad and disconnected events of her life, improbably alive and joined together in celebration in the very place where she might have walked as a queen.

Her eyes went, as though of their own accord, to the figure who reigned over a small gathering in the center of the hall. Red eyes looked back at her with a keen and unrelenting gaze. Michalis, King of Macedon, raised his gilded cup in her direction.

_ Of course this is a dream. Michalis is dead, dead for three years now. None of this can possibly be real._

Small warm fingers clasped around her arm, and Lena looked down to see the upturned face of her former apprentice.

_Not real. She looks no more than ten, even now, and she'd now be sixteen..._

And yet Lena addressed the apparition as though this were perfectly normal.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Melissa?"

"Maybe. I think Sir Roger likes me," Melissa confessed, her small nose wrinkled up as an indication of how she felt about poor silly Roger.

"Sir Roger likes to be friendly. I'm sure he means you no harm." A wave of affection, of the desire to hold and protect, welled in her heart toward the tiny girl with the fluffy pale hair and sweet face who stood at her shoulder.

"He'd better not. Melissa knows fire magic and thunder magic now, and she will _zap_ anyone who tries anything bad."

And Lena laughed, even as she marveled at her own mind's strangeness in afflicting this living memory of Melissa with the speech quirks of a small child.

"Melissa, do come see me tonight. We have so much to catch up on, you and I."

"I'd like that, Miss Lena," the girl replied, and her hand slipped into Lena's own for a moment.

Lena let out her breath in a long exhalation, hoping that would somehow ease the tight feelings around her heart. The mead was cooling quickly, and though drinking it made her feel a little more relaxed, it seemed to heighten the odd colors that plagued her vision. Melissa seemed to have a shimmering pale light around her, a reflection of her innocent heart.

"Are you okay, Lena?"

The sound of that voice in her ear was a balm to her soul.

"Yes, Julian. Thank you." She turned to face him, and though she could see the colors around him as well, she resolved to ignore them.

"Let's dance," he said, and she let him carry her as the wind carries a leaf.

-x-

Melissa came as promised to Lena's room that evening and they shared the kind of talk they once had back home in Grust when Lena was Melissa's teacher. Not quite the same, of course, not with five-six-seven years between that moment and the present, and the experience alternately was sweet and bitter for Lena. How many years had been lost, scoured by war and pain and sorrows? Lena wanted dearly to believe that she was truly having this heart-to-heart with her apprentice- talk of boys and love and magic and of the world ahead of them- yet the strangeness of it all haunted her. Was she truly here, in the palace of Michalis, or was she still in the depths of the Dragon's Altar, dreaming imaginary conversations with some symbol of her own lost innocence?

"It's so nice to see you again, Teacher. I'm glad I got to show you how much I've learned."

"It's good to see you, too, Melissa." She placed a kiss upon the crown of Melissa's head. "I've regretted that I had to leave you before we finished your studies, but I had no choice then. I promise we'll finish now, if you like. You can stay with me here and I'll teach you everything."

Melissa had her finger in her mouth- that bad habit of hers that bitter aloes hadn't cured. Then she threw her arms around Lena in a crushing hug.

"Miss Lena is always so good to Melissa."

-x-

The next morning, Melissa was not in her room. Lena hurried down the hall, Julian on her heels, and found exactly what the maid had described- no signs of a struggle, but Melissa and most of her belongings nowhere in evidence. Lena's eyes fell upon something the maid had omitted, a sealed envelope on the little vanity table.

"That can't be a ransom note," said Julian.

"If someone took Melissa, they'd pay _us_ to take her back," Rickard volunteered from the doorway.

Lena took the envelope from the table; it was addressed in Melissa's own handwriting beyond a doubt. Lena knew the girl's hand on sight, as she'd been the one to school Melissa in mastery of script.

"Lord Marth," it read in violet-colored ink.

"Rickard, would you please let Lord Marth know I need to speak with him?"

In terms of strict protocol, Lena should have alerted Michalis or one of the Macedonian princesses, but it seemed more appropriate to let the Prince of Altea know about Melissa's disappearance first, as Melissa had technically been traveling under his protection. Besides, after their conversation last night, Lena had some inkling of what this letter might be about.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you, my lord, but Melissa appears to have gone off without our knowledge. She left this."

It might have been the angle of the morning sun, but there seemed to be a very bright light around the Altean prince, enough that Lena had trouble looking directly at him. She focused on his eyes, which were quite wide, intensely blue, and deeply shocked at that particular moment.

He took the envelope from her hand and stared at Melissa's writing for a moment before opening it. Lena did notice that the prince's hands were steady. But he was accustomed to battling dragons... a little note from a little girl wouldn't shake his nerves any.

"It says that she's gone back home to her grandmother. She thanks us all very much for our kindness and asks us not to worry." He appeared to be reading from the letter, paraphrasing it, and yet Marth looked away from the paper before he could have truly finished it. Something in his voice, in the timing of the words, bothered Lena. The prince was lying to her- she could almost swear that she'd _seen_ the lie, as though there'd been some shadow pass across him in that moment.

Marth folded the letter neatly but kept it tight within his hand.

"Of course we should search for her, as she can't have gone far, but it wouldn't be right to alarm too many people with the news. Michalis wouldn't appreciate that kind of... disturbance."

"No, of course not," Lena murmured. She looked down at the floor, at the red and white patterns in the mosaic tile.

"Let's have Julian and Rickard search the palace, in case she's hiding, and I'll have a few of my knights look around and near the city. Even if Melissa managed to borrow a horse, she can't be far off... it's only been a few hours."

"Yes, Lord Marth." His words were assured enough, but something in his voice undercut it. Lena continued to look at the floor.

The light made her eyes tired.

**To Be Continued...**

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**Author's Note: So, Lena is experiencing visual disturbances as a result of the spiritual damage she sustain thanks to Gharnef. What precisely is she seeing? Stay tuned!


	2. The Girl in the Forest

**Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal**

I do not own _Fire Emblem _or any of its characters.

Warning: Contains implied adult situations, including alcohol use, drug use, name-calling, marriage, children, and political backstabbing. Also contains spoilers for _New Mystery of the Emblem: Heroes of Light and Shadow_, aka _Fire Emblem 12_. And the non-canon pairing rears its crazy head beginning right here.

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_Chapter One: The Girl in the Forest _

_610, Month of the Ram_

"The forest ahead is too thick to traverse with dragons, Your Majesty."

"I know it, Harlow. We'll take horses from here."

Michalis of Macedon was in his element when airborne on the back of a dragon, but he could ride a horse as well as any paladin in his realm and didn't mind showing it off. And given that the point of this procession across the land was to demonstrate to every last one of his subjects that, rumors to the contrary, he was quite alive and not possessed by evil powers, he had plenty of opportunities to show off his skill.

So his party penetrated the great western forests on horseback, with Michalis upon an ice-white destrier with a temperament to rival any cantankerous dragon. The beast was also stupid compared to a dragon, and Michalis had to impress upon it that _he_ was its master.

The horse was the model of obedience by the time they reached a dilapidated settlement that, by appearance, had once been a logging village. To the north and east rose ancient trees, while to the south and west was the tangled mess of new vegetation that arose whenever the great forests were cleared.

"Your Majesty, this does not appear to be inhabited."

"I don't want to let a single one of my people live unaware of my presence, Heber. Do investigate before we ride on."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Michalis waited while his knights knocked upon the extant doors of each small house- and banged upon the frames of the structures whose doors had fallen or lay at crazy angles. They looked absurd as they carried out his orders, but Michalis had noticed something his men had missed- a few strands of pale hair caught in a bramble as they approached the village. It wasn't pegasus hair, either.

Michalis and his destrier were becoming impatient when a knock on the door of the last cabin was greeted with a shrill female scream.

"That's the one, then," he muttered as he edged the horse forward.

"Don't come any closer! I know fire magic."

And yet, all she had in her hands was a healing staff.

"Your Majesty, she appears to be a cleric," said the least bold of his attendants.

"I can see that, Vesto. I have eyes."

A cleric, in her late teens but no older, in a ragged gown made from fine materials. The staff in her hands was likewise of high quality. Her hands trembled as she stared at him with large eyes of some shade between gray and pale blue.

"Your... _Majesty_?" She said it in quite a different tone of voice as she slowly lowered the staff.

"Miss, do you not recognize your king?" Heber, intent on urging the girl to follow ceremony, hadn't noticed that her accent wasn't even Macedonian. Sometimes Michalis thought every competent knight in his kingdom must have been targeted for death in the wars.

"I know you from somewhere." Michalis narrowed his eyes at the maiden, scrutinizing her dirty knees, thin scratched arms, and tangled mass of silvery-blue hair. She had a Grustian accent, not unlike Lena's...

Michalis smiled.

"Melissa, isn't it? Lena's apprentice."

If her eyes got any wider, they'd pop right out of her pretty little head.

"Come here, girl. Lena's been looking all over for you."

She took one step forward but froze, and her hand stole up to her mouth. She looked a perfect idiot chewing on her finger like an infant, but she did have a certain appeal regardless.

Michalis knew _exactly _what was expected of him here, even if it made Heber squawk about etiquette. He threw the reins to Harlow and dismounted, then picked the stupid cleric off her feet and swept her right into the saddle. She wouldn't have weighed ninety pounds soaking wet _with_ the staff on her.

"Well, I've done my good deed for the day," he said as a signal to his men that they could leave this blasted village to crumble. That would be a good story to put around- Michalis, rescuer of maidens in distress. Lena would be grateful to him beyond measure for this one.

"Are we going to see Miss Lena now?" Her tiny voice was pleasant enough, even if it lacked the music of Lena's voice.

"Not yet, my sweet. We have a bit more of my kingdom to see yet."

They hadn't gone a mile before she was clinging to him a little more tightly than necessity demanded. Her hands were small and very warm.

-x-

"I never would have recognized her, Your Majesty."

Harlow was possibly the most intelligent of the knights now at his disposal, though in Michalis's own opinion that wasn't saying much. Now that Melissa was upstairs asleep in this poor excuse for an inn they'd taken over for the night, Michalis decided to pick Harlow's brain regarding the little healer girl.

"You saw her how many times? Once?"

"Twice, Your Majesty. Once when the Altean army came to assist us with the, er, uprising in 607. Then the following year when Your Majesty's courtesy was extended to all the victorious host after the rescue of Princess Maria and Bishop Lena."

"I missed her the first time, I'm afraid. I was occupied elsewhere."

"She was in the company of the... of the Prince of Altea, at that time."

"Until she ran away." Michalis closed his eyes and tried to summon one clear image of young Melissa. He remembered her in the battle at the Dragon's Altar, staff raised high above her head. He thought he recalled her at Lena's side during the celebrations afterward. And he most definitely remembered some bizarre stories about her behavior with the Altean prince. "What did you think of her then, Harlow?"

"I can't say for certain, Your Majesty. It was a very confusing time, with the princesses both missing and Bishop Lena gone as well. Everyone else in my platoon was dead, and Prince Marth put me in charge of the Mint."

"Why was that?"

"He said I looked trustworthy."

Michalis was now used to stories about the bizarre actions of his rival on the continent and so didn't so much as bat an eyelash at Harlow's story.

"Well, that and my records as a cadet were all clean. No demerits," Harlow amended. "Come to think of it, I do remember the girl being there at my interview. She followed him around like a little duckling."

"Yes. I think I recall that as well." Michalis stared pointedly at a wine decanter on the adjacent table until Harlow poured him a glass. "He tolerated it, I believe. He rather seemed to like her."

"I would say so, Your Majesty."

"That's good enough, Harlow. You may go."

So Michalis was left briefly alone- alone as a king could ever be- with his wine and his thoughts. Giving Lena a reason to be grateful was good by itself, but it looked as though fate might have handed him other one thing he'd lacked to that point- some effective weapon he might leverage against his rival to the north.

-x-

Michalis checked in on Melissa once before retiring for the night. Her pale hair was spread out around her like a silvery halo, and she had a little smile on her face.

"Pleasant dreams, my sweet girl," he said aloud. "The dreams you have from now on will be _my_ dreams."

She smiled just a little more, as though she'd somehow heard him.

**To be continued...**

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**Author's Note: I bet you didn't see this one coming, eh? Michalis and Melissa? Well, given that Michalis wanted to marry Lena, and that Melissa is looking for some "prince" to sweep her off her feet... oh yes, it's a horrible pairing. That's the point!

Michalis's knights- Heber, Harlow, and Vesto- are named in honor of famous astronomers. Just because.


	3. Holiday in Macedon

**Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal**

I do not own _Fire Emblem _or any of its characters.

Warning: Contains implied adult situations, including alcohol use, drug use, name-calling, marriage, children, and political backstabbing. Also contains spoilers for _New Mystery of the Emblem: Heroes of Light and Shadow_, aka _Fire Emblem 12_. And non-canon pairings. Maybe more than one. Stay tuned for more offenses!

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_Chapter Two_:_ Holiday in Macedon_

_610, the Month of the Twins_

Melissa liked to stay in bed awhile before she opened her eyes. Her room just smelled so _nice_, like spices and lavender. The sheets on her bed were cool and smooth and felt wonderful... especially after months of sleeping on horrible rough sacks and scratchy straw. When she did open her eyes, she saw only good things; the room Michalis made up for her was all white and pale violet, with touches of gold and silver. Melissa adored it.

Serving-maids brought her up breakfast on a tray; Melissa had only ever been allowed breakfast in bed on her birthday, and that was just until she left Grandmother's. Nobody ever brought you breakfast in bed when you were in the army unless you were a prince or a princess, and sometimes not even then. But now Melissa could have it every single morning.

"This is just like being a real princess," she thought. She had fresh milk with lots of cream, bread and soft cheese and honey, and all of the china was edged in gold. The spoon for the honey had a little golden honeybee at the end of it, and the tray was sprinkled with sprigs of fresh rosemary. Everything was absolutely perfect.

"Miss Melissa? Bishop Lena would like to see you."

She'd read about queens who entertained guests while they were lying in bed, and being the guest of King Michalis meant that she was practically a princess already, so why shouldn't she entertain a bishop from her bedroom? So Melissa met with her teacher while sitting up in bed in her new lace-edged, pearl-buttoned gown. She'd seen Lena once a few days before, when Michalis first brought her to the palace, but there hadn't been time to say much and Melissa wasn't exactly dressed for the court right then. But now they had plenty of time to chat. Melissa rolled the last piece of bread around in honey while she listened to her teacher pour out every worry that Lena'd had over Melissa and her sudden disappearance. Melissa did feel a little bad about it now; she probably should have let Lena know what her plans were... but then Lena would have tried to stop her, and that would have been no good. Maybe she should have left Lena a letter, as well...

"Whatever have you been up to for all these years?" Lena still had a habit of wringing her hands when she was quite upset, and she did so very dramatically just then.

"Well..."

Melissa didn't like the story at all, but seeing her old teacher did bring back memories of all the unhappy things Melissa had been able to confide in Lena once, things she could never even share with Grandmother. And so, as Melissa stripped the leaves off one sprig of rosemary, she began to explain about the young noble with deep violet hair and beautiful dark eyes who promised to help her get back to Grust and return to her grandmother. Instead, Lord Edwin had taken her to one of his manors and declared his intention not to let her go until she did certain things for him, and Melissa by that point had decided Lord Edwin wasn't quite so nice after all and would _not_ do any of those things, and it ended up with Melissa running away through the woods with no shoes and no money and with Edwin's dogs and knights chasing after her.

And then there was the part about doing chores for people, and telling fortunes for money, and running farther and farther away whenever Lord Edwin's name came up until Melissa was living in that abandoned village in the woods and trying to convince birds to bring her things to eat. And at the end of it, Lena was cradling her, just like she used to, and telling Melissa what a brave and strong and virtuous person she'd turned out to be.

She omitted the part about setting Edwin's manor on fire. Melissa suspected that Lena might not entirely approve of her for doing that.

-x-

Michalis invited her to have dinner in the King's Apartments that night; Melissa knew it was very, very special to get to have dinner in the King's Apartments and she asked the servants to dress her up in her very finest gown. Her clothes wouldn't surprise Michalis, as he'd bought them all for her, but he'd never _seen_ her in them, either, so it would be a little bit of a surprise. She had on a pale-blue gown edged in silver, and her hair was done up like a fine lady's, and she even wore the pendant that was a gift from Grandmother. The pendant was old but it was quite a nice piece and Melissa thought it looked good enough with her new clothes.

The King's Dining Room was all red and gold; even the dishes were gold, or _at least_ silvergilt, and there was a great golden fish spouting wine in the middle of the table. There wasn't anybody else at the table but her and Michalis, King of Macedon, and Melissa had never felt so special in all of her life. Well, almost never, anyway.

Melissa smiled the way Grandmother taught her and showed off her very best manners while the servants walked silently around them and laid course after course of wonderful things before her- little dishes of olives and vegetable fritters, rich soup and colorful salads, squash blossoms stuffed with meat and rice and spices, skewers of roasted fish, venison stew in wine, and on and on and on. Michalis did almost all of the talking and Melissa just nodded her head; one mustn't ever interrupt a king or speak to him without being spoken to, after all. He talked about politics, both inside Macedon and on the mainland of Archanea, and Melissa understood quite a lot of it- probably more than Michalis thought she did, really. But the whole effect was to show what a fine and important man Michalis, King of Macedon, really was, and how the continent was cradled in his hand even if the mainlanders didn't see it yet, and didn't Melissa agree? Wasn't Michalis absolutely instrumental in the victory at the Dragon's Altar? Wouldn't Lord Marth's army have been thwarted by dark powers had Michalis not been there to lend them aid?

Yes, yes, yes. Melissa nodded her agreement to every word, right up to the moment when she was served a dish of rice pudding sprinkled with gold dust and rose petals. She'd figured out her part in the game before they'd even got to the venison stew; just like young Lord Edwin, King Michalis wanted something from her. Only Michalis understood the right way to go about it, and Melissa hoped he would understand why she wasn't going to give him anything more than a smile until he gave _her_ something more substantial than gold dust.

She was, after all, a young lady of breeding and virtue, and as her grandmother's granddaughter, Melissa wouldn't settle for anything less.

_

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_Author's Note: Melissa may be a little cracked (she does refer to herself in the third person in the game, after all), but she's not stupid, and the idea of using a male protector to get herself out of a bad situation, or into a better one, is not new to her. And the bait Michalis is dangling before her just happens to be exactly what Melissa wants... or thinks she wants. Fun!


	4. Lies and Whispers

**Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal**

I do not own _Fire Emblem _or any of its characters.

Warning: Contains implied adult situations, including alcohol use, drug use, name-calling, marriage, children, and political backstabbing. Also contains spoilers for _New Mystery of the Emblem: Heroes of Light and Shadow_, aka _Fire Emblem 12_. And a non-canon pairing or three.

_

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_

_Chapter Three: Lies and Whispers_

_610: The Month of the Scorpion_

"Three months of marriage and I feel reborn."

The sun had just broken above the eastern horizon, and the red light it cast upon the white stone of the Aerie made an ideal backdrop for Michalis's public declaration of happiness in his wife. Of course, his audience consisted of a single retainer, but that was enough; the Aerie and the rest of the capital functioned as one giant ear, ready for whatever gossip might be poured into it.

"Your Majesty would seem to have as many lives as a cat, then."

"Careful, Harlow. One might receive the impression that my superiority to death itself dismays you."

"Not at all, Your Majesty." Harlow twitched slightly, proving to Michalis that he was at least a little rattled. "Your power simply overwhelms, sire. Even to stand in your shadow-"

"Yes, yes. Enough, Harlow."

Michalis looked down at his domain; the full drop from the heights of the Aerie to the earth was seven hundred feet, a jaw-dropping, stomach-churning height to an earthbound man. Harlow, a cavalier at heart, kept a modest distance back from the edge. Michalis stood at the precipice, projecting the confidence of a man who had scaled mountain ranges with nothing between himself and the ground but two dragon wings and his own skill. Let any stripling from the continent equal _that_.

"All your subjects will be gratified to hear that the queen does please Your Majesty."

"She is the most charming creature under the sun. So willing, so eager to make herself endearing." Michalis raised a hand to cut off an imaginary objection from his retainer. "You say she is over-eager, perhaps? You remember some slanders from the war, regarding her attachment to another?"

"I remember nothing, Your Majesty."

"Put it from your head- it is all lies. No, Harlow, we hear no more chatter regarding Marth of Altea from Melissa's honeyed lips. It doesn't say much for him that he had this adoring little kitten at his disposal for more than a year and apparently never so much as imagined the benefits of her _companionship_. No wonder he hasn't managed to get himself an heir yet." He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. "Then again, it seemed to _me_ that he was entirely too taken with one of his own knights..."

"The archer girl was fetching, yes." Harlow no longer pretended not to hear his sovereign's asides.

"Not her. I meant that strapping youth with the filthy headband. The one with the tremendous sword."

"Oh." Harlow didn't have anything to say for some time after that.

Despite his youth, Harlow was breathing heavily by the time they made the full descent back down to the palace level of the Aerie- Michalis was certain he'd heard Harlow squandering his breath by numbered the bloody steps as they went down. The king felt perfectly invigorated; it was a brisk autumn morn, the sun was in its splendor, and Melissa would soon be stirring lightly in her sleep, stretching out those little hands in search of something warm to clasp. And Michalis, who had spent such effort in casting himself as the very exemplar of a husband, lover, and king, could not allow himself to spoil his bride's expectations.

His dear kitten, for all of her fancies, had no small amount of calculation concealed behind her innocent eyes. It was the brand of calculation that seized on imperfections and hypocrisies, and he must be careful not to give her any cause for doubt. Let no suspicion come between a man and his wife, and let nothing come between Michalis and his weapon.

* * *

Author's Note: What, you wanted to see the wedding and the elevation of Queen Melissa? Too bad... though there's stuff along those lines a bit later. Anyway, this being an FE12 'fic, I couldn't resist a swipe at Chris aka My Unit.

Anyway, the next installment will briefly cut away from the thickening plot on Macedon to give a glimpse of the mainlanders Michalis is plotting against. Until then...


	5. Interlude: Within the Hollow Crown

**Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal**

I do not own _Fire Emblem _or any of its characters.

Warning: Contains implied adult situations, including alcohol use, drug use, name-calling, marriage, children, and political backstabbing. Also contains spoilers for _New Mystery of the Emblem: Heroes of Light and Shadow_, aka _Fire Emblem 12_. And a non-canon pairing or three.

* * *

_Interlude: Within the Hollow Crown_

_611_

The King and Queen of Archanea were enjoying an intimate dinner, which meant they were alone in the dining room aside from three or four servers and a couple of guards. This meant they could speak freely, as the servers and guards were all perfectly loyal and all skilled at feigning deafness.

"So, Elice says they're ready to expand this year's admissions from twenty to forty, though she said they'll be needing an additional instructor in...er, elder magic."

"You mean dark magic."

"Well, that's what you and I would term it, but it's considered rather impolite in scholarly circles." Marth frowned slightly at the euphemism. "Anyway, Merric hopes that I can track down Etzel for him- you remember Eztel, Caeda?"

"Mm... yes."

"But he's been laying low since the wars ended, and supposedly..."

Caeda tried to give her full attention to Marth's account of the issues his sister and brother-in-law faced in setting up a new school of magic, but a number of distractions confounded her. For one, the aroma of the roast chicken on her plate made Caeda queasy; she suspected that putting even a morsel of it in her mouth would turn her stomach. The scent of the flowers on the table didn't agree with her either; she would have to ask the palace steward for something a little less fragrant in the future.

"It's not as though I have enough my at my disposal to hunt for one wandering mage, is it? And if Etzel's gone overseas..."

Caeda began to cut up her food and push it around on her plate; it wouldn't do if Marth began to worry about _her_, after all. Especially not when she suspected her sudden aversion to chicken was for a very happy reason. Just the same, she didn't want to raise his hopes about anything before she was certain she had good news.

"Oh, yes. And Elice wants Tiki to spent a term at the school. She says it's so she can study and record all that Tiki knows about dragon magic, but Tiki doesn't know much of anything about her heritage and I'm afraid that Elice might actually be using her as a research subject-"

"Mm."

"And I really don't know how to tell Elice no outright, so I was hoping you might be able to help me come up with some solid reason to not send Tiki to the academy-" Marth stopped in mid-sentence as his brows drew together in concern. "Is something wrong? You're not eating."

"We've had roast chicken such a lot lately. I've been more in the mood for quail." Just saying the word "quail" made her mouth water, and she pictured tiny golden birds resting on a bed of rice and spring greens...

"Well, that's an easy problem to solve. You need only have mentioned it." He sounded uncertain now, as though her behavior greatly disconcerted him, and that frown reappeared again. Caeda shoved thoughts of plump succulent quail out of her head and tried to address the most immediate of Marth's complaints.

"Tiki is still adjusting to life among humans," she said. "She trusts and loves us, and to remove her from our company and put her with a school-full of human children might harm her social development."

"Yes. That sounds plausible... but Elice may well have an answer to it. You know how she fancies herself an expert on the workings of the human mind."

"Yes, but Tiki's mind is hardly human. And you're the closest thing to an expert on the manakete mind that there is on earth, given that you're the only one most of them were willing to talk with."

Marth did not appear satisfied by this reasoning, but he never had the opportunity to voice his objections. At that moment, a rap upon the doorframe sounded.

"My apologies, Lord Marth."

"Come in, Chris."

The knight poked his shaggy dark head into the dining room; his ever-present headband seemed to accentuate his untidy hair rather than tame it.

"A herald from Macedon arrived this evening. He seeks an audience with Your Majesty. Should I ask him to wait?"

"Not at all." Marth had already pushed his plate away; Caeda noticed that _his_ dinner was mostly untouched. "Tell him we'll meet in the reception room shortly."

"Very good, Lord Marth."

"_Macedon_," Marth said softly once Chris had left them. "If Michalis is interested in re-establishing relations..."

Caeda inwardly sighed. She could already see the hope blossoming in her husband's eyes, and knowing Michalis, that hope would come to nothing. Again.

The emissary looked authentic enough- a tall and rangy man in his mid-thirties, with the red hair and freckled face common among the Macedonians. A curate from the cut of his clothes, he sported the emblem of a royal herald on his shoulder. The essence of his message (once all the niceties were shaved away) was simple. Michalis wanted to re-establish contact with the mainland- on his terms.

"...and these requirements being met, His Most Illustrious Majesty would send Melissa, Queen of Macedon, to your court as his beloved and trusted envoy."

"Melissa?" Marth echoed. "This is the first I've heard of Michalis's... queen."

"They are but recently wed. The new queen is from the nobility of Grust, a woman of exceptional beauty and skill. All Macedon delights in their union."

Caeda noted that the stock phrases sounded especially insincere when the herald spoke of his queen; she wondered if that stemmed from calculation or carelessness.

"Is that so? I should like to hear more of your queen. Does she then have a background in diplomacy?"

"Queen Melissa was mentored by none other than our esteemed Bishop Lena," the herald replied, which answered the question with a circumspect _No_.

"I see." Marth regarded the herald for a long moment, then said, "You said Queen Melissa was beautiful. Tell us more of her beauty, if you would."

Caeda understood exactly where her husband was going with this question; she did not believe Marth to be perfect, but she had ample evidence that his character faults did _not _include undue interest in beautiful women. She was also fairly certain that the entire conversation had been designed to prod Marth into asking that question. As the herald gave his account of the moonlit streams of Melissa's silvery hair, Caeda was thoroughly convinced that something in this set-up was false.

Caeda was more than a little apprehensive by the time they dismissed the herald.

"There was nothing in Michalis's offer regarding the Oath of Allegiance," she said. The Oath that leaders of the satellite kingdoms owed to the crown of Archanea was the primary obstacle in the relationship between Macedon and the continent, and it was apparent enough to Caeda that Michalis thought he'd found a way of side-stepping the issue. But the omission of the Oath was so obvious, and the offer of sending Melissa to their court so odd, that Caeda had to suspect the entire ploy was a bluff.

Marth didn't seem to hear her statement. He turned to her with a smile that showed the half-dazed gratitude of someone relieved unexpectedly of a burden, however small.

"For years now... every time there's been a girl found dead in a brothel, or pulled drowned from a river, I've gone through the reports hoping that it's not a maiden with silvery hair. I can't tell you how many times I've been down to the mortuary in Port Warren just to make sure that the latest murder victim wasn't Melissa."

Caeda knew that was true; she had to admit she'd often felt a chill in her heart at the thought of the perils a girl of Melissa's age was likely to face, out in the world alone. Especially when the girl in question was so pretty and so trusting.

"Marriage to Michalis might sound like madness," Marth continued, "but it has to be a better fate than the ones I've dreaded for Melissa all this time."

"Melissa is a sweet girl and I hope for her happiness," Caeda replied. "But really... I hope she's grown up a bit since I knew her." And the idea of cunning Michalis matched with naive and fanciful Melissa definitely bordered on madness. It was difficult to even imagine.

"She really won't have a choice now," Marth was saying. "Will she?"

There was something in his voice and eyes, the shadow of a long-held grief, that pained Caeda to see.

"No. Whatever she imagined the life of princess to be, I'm sure the reality is... different." Faint echoes of childish questions rang in Caeda's ears. To silence them, she stepped alongside Marth and rested her head against his shoulder. "Let's take a walk in the gardens before we turn in for the night."

Her stomach was churning, and worry over Michalis's latest stunt was only a part of it.

* * *

Author's Notes: Inspiration for this scene comes from a number of moments in FE12- the Melissa/Caeda support conversations, in which Melissa (who believes _she's_ going to marry Marth) is fangirling Caeda for being a princess, the scene in Prologue 4 where Elice provides a rather unsettling psychoanalysis of Marth, and the headband Chris can acquire in the Prologue after talking to Cecil. Chris is, of course, the knight that Michalis was making innuendos about in the previous chapter.

Oh, yes. Michalis has set out his trap and he's expecting Marth is going to take the bait- that is, that Marth will be only too happy to invite Melissa over. Michalis didn't reckon on Caeda. Too bad for him.


End file.
